


Disabled Toilet, Five Minutes.

by fickle_fics



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, F/M, grey white
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickle_fics/pseuds/fickle_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm's having possibly his worst day at DoSAC thanks to Nicola. Grey can't bear to see him like that, so decides to try and make things a little better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disabled Toilet, Five Minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> Slight AU from my other Grey/Malc fics - her she's still at DoSAC
> 
> And this is set during series 3, episode 6.

It’s difficult not to dislike Nicola Murray sometimes. Oh she tries. She’s ever so polite and friendly, she remembers to call her Grey rather than Grace, and really the fact she remembers her name and bothers to use it at all is noteworthy because not everyone in DoSAC bothers, so really why should the minister? The thing is she’s sort of completely incompetent and Hugh wasn’t this bad. Hugh was the good old days as it turned out, when Malcolm was still pretty angry but it wasn’t quite like this, now it seems like he spends half his time trying to contain the utter mess that is her. The Omnishambles he called her and it was funny at the time, but now they’re in fucking lock down because Nicola has _accidentally_ implied she wants to stands for leader of the party and it really isn’t anymore, it’s just fucking depressing how inept she is and how much trouble she’s causing.

Grey tries not to react as she sits there at her desk, watches Malcolm pace around the office, stressed and angry and worse than that a little bit lost, because there’s only so much he can do. He’s only one man, though of course Grey would never, ever point that out to him. She wants to scream at Nicola, she wants to ask her what the fuck is wrong with her, why she can’t just use the right the fucking words, because it can’t be that difficult surely? She wants to tell her to just fucking resign and stop making Malcolm’s life so difficult. Only she can’t, of course she can’t because she has to remain detached, has to pretend Malcolm isn’t her…whatever the fuck he is because she hates the term boyfriend and it certainly doesn’t fit him. Instead she just carries on typing, trying to block out everything that’s going on around her, trying to ignore the weird numb feeling that fills the pit of her stomach whenever something really shit goes down. And then Terri starts questioning him, right there in front of everyone and it’s just too much. She locks her computer and practically runs to the ladies before something snaps inside her and it becomes completely obvious to everyone that Grey is in fact completely fucking in love with Malcolm Tucker to the point of being ridiculously overprotective, because even if Malcolm could and _would_ deny everything if anyone thought for a second it wasn’t one sided, it would fuck her entire career and if she didn’t work here she knows she’d never even fucking _see_ him.

She’s still shaking when she comes back, but no one notices, everyone’s too distracted by the shit storm Nicola’s caused and Malcolm looking more rattled than she’s ever seen him and it’s all she can do to sit back down, to not just grab him and pull him away from everyone onto the stairwell or lift just so she can have one minute alone with him.

“Well this is fun, isn’t it?” Ben says, a crunchie in his hand and it takes all the will power Grey possesses not to glare and tell him to fuck right off. Instead she just looks at him, because if she opens her mouth she _will_ say something that gives everything away and the last person she needs to know about her and Malcolm is Ben fucking Swain.

“Pizza soon,” he adds with a grin wandering off again.

 _Fucking clueless, blinky, twat_.

Subtly she pulls her mobile out of her pocket, watching Malcolm out of the corner of her eye because she knows if he catches her with it he won’t just ignore it or let it slide, that he’ll bollock her just as hard as any other member of staff, but some things are more important than that.

_Disabled toilet 5 mins?_

She watches him reach into his trouser pocket pulling out his own phone with a frown and reading the text message. He doesn’t even glance at her as he taps out his reply.

_Thanks_

She watches as he deletes any incriminating evidence, and does the same, just in case. Always just in case. 

No one notices as she gets up from her desk again, heading casually back to the toilets, locking herself in the disabled and waiting, well aware he might not even show up, but the thing is no matter how many times he stands her up or cancels at the last minute the hope that he’ll be here this time never quite dies.

He knocks once on the door, before the lock clicks and the door opens and he’s pulled inside, Grey’s hand strong in his as she locks the door behind him again.

“This is really fucking dangerous, darling,” he grumbles.

“Aye well, we’ll think of something if we get caught, right? Put all the blame of me, give me a decent reference and get rid,” she shrugs as if it doesn’t matter, because in the grand scheme of things, right now, it really, really doesn’t.

He wishes he could say he wouldn’t do that to her but of course he would, he’d have to and she actually seems to understand that. The shit she puts up with for him really is unbelievable. 

“You okay?” she asks.

“Fine,” he sighs.

“You know considering your job you’re a fucking shit liar.” Not that he’s exactly working with the smartest people in the world. She reaches up with her free hand, splays her fingers against the back of his neck, rubbing his skin slowly. “So…wanna talk or come?”

He can’t help but laugh at the question. Part of him doesn’t want either, the other wants both. “This is highly inappropriate work place behaviour, Ms White”

“Yeah? Well report me to my fucking superior,” she suggests. “Just answer the question, Malcolm, people are gonna start missing you soon and I really don’t want to let you out of here before I’ve done _something_.”

“Just…” he sighs again, dips his head and squeezes her hand tightly, pulling her against him, sagging against her body and closing his eyes.

The hand at his neck moves instantly to his shoulders holding onto him, supporting his weight and very determinedly not crying. She has to be strong for his sake, getting him to put everything on the line only for her to make things worse is the last thing they need. She moves her head slightly, finding his lips and kissing him gently as he lets go of her hand, wraps his arms around her as he deepens it, tongue pressing into her mouth with a little sound of desire. She doesn’t need any encouragement as the kiss changes quickly into one filled with passion and need and desperation, his hands pushing their way up beneath her top and grabbing at her body.

“Let me get rid of some of that tension, yeah? I can’t wait until you get back, and I don’t think you can either,” she says directly into his ear, her hand already at his crotch, feeling him semi-hard against her palm.

“Since you seem so determined,” he agrees, as if he’s doing her some huge favour rather than the other way round. Before he can say anything else she’s on her knees in front of him and all Malcolm can do is stare down at her, mouth open and eyebrows raised in surprise. It’s not like Grey, it’s not like she hasn’t gone down on him dozens of times, but it’s never like this - her on her knees, in a toilet cubicle of all places and he isn’t sure whether he’s more horrified or turned on by the extent to which she’ll degrade herself for him. “Grey? You-you sure about this?”

“Can’t risk getting come on our clothes,” she points out, as she undoes his flies, stroking him to full hardness, before leaning in, pulling away a mere inch away. “Much safer this way.”

“Always thinking, aren’t you?” He leans back against the wall, hands on her shoulders as she descends on him, not wasting any time as she closes her mouth around him, hot and wet and it’s almost impossible to stay quiet as she slides up and down against him, running her tongue over the tip, sucking it as she steadies herself with her hands on his thighs, gripping him tightly.

“Fuck, Grey,” he whispers, hands tightening on her shoulders with the desire to thread his fingers into her hair, because they need to be careful, neither of them can go back out there looking even slightly dishevelled. 

She looks up at him, smiling around his cock as she looks into his eyes, pulling back to focus on the tip, tongue flicking obscenely over it as she lets go of one thigh, taking him in her hand, stroking and licking him, all the while looking up at him and it’s just the most erotic thing, the way she always looks in his eye when they’re together like this, the way she never turns her head or closes her eyes when they’re fucking, like she _really_ wants to see him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hand tightening further still, hips jutting forward instinctively, because it‘s all too much, that look on her face, the way she‘s looking at him and the things she‘s doing. The things he‘s _watching_ her doing. “Might wanna…”

She knows what he’s trying to say. _Get ready_ , make sure there are no accidents that might result in suspicious marks. So she takes him in further, her hand speeding up, and her lips tightening.

“Fuck,” he says again as he comes into her mouth, still watching her as she swallows him down, once, twice, three times. She stays where she is for a few seconds, mouth and hand loose around him, just making sure that’s it, before she pulls back and tucks him back away carefully, doing up his flies before he reaches for her hands, pulling her upright.

Looking at him she licks her lips, wondering if they look swollen or merely feel that way. “You need to get rid of her, you know?” she says quietly. “Don’t think blow jobs in toilets are really part of my job description.”

“More a perk, aye?”

“Aye. Now you’d better go back out there and deal with the mess. Oh, but before you do, just one thing?”

“Yeah?” he says, checking his hair in the mirror.

“You’re fucking majestic and don’t let any cunt tell you otherwise, right?”

He turns to face her, a smile on his face that almost reaches his eyes. “Fancy being a minister, darling? You wouldn’t cause me any problems, would you?”

“Well I’d try not to, and if I did I’d try to make it up to you with sexual favours.”

“Sounds good to me.”


End file.
